Kemp chuckled, audible over the intercom. “One good way to find out.”
“Unbelievable.” Mandelbaum did a slow face palm, then played with the intercom panel. “Signals, give me a general broadcast channel, full power, omnidirectional. Keep it open until I say otherwise.”
“Aye, ma’am. Channel seven ready.”
Mandelbaum gazed at Moore silently for a few moments, then leaned on the chair arm closest to the intercom speaker. “I guess we should prepare a statement.”
“I’ve been working on that, Commodore,” Kemp replied. “First, let’s see if he’s listening.”
Mandelbaum nodded, then activated channel seven. “Attention, Ivan Pritchard. If you are listening, this is Commodore Mandelbaum of the United Earth Nations Navy. I have myself, Admiral Moore, Captain Jennings, Dr. Kemp, and Dr. Narang on the line. We wish to discuss the current situation with you.”
Mandelbaum released the transmit button and cocked her head at Moore. “That’s about all we can—”
Cutting her off in mid-sentence, Ivan Pritchard’s voice played from the intercom. “Hi, Commodore. How’s tricks?”
Discussion
Kemp’s eyebrows rose. “That was fast!”
“Virtually no delay. He’s in the neighborhood. It seems you were right. He’s deliberately set things up to allow this meeting.”
Kemp leaned forward and spoke directly to the intercom. “Commodore, it’s very important that you not take any threatening actions.”
“Not to worry, Doctor,” Mandelbaum’s voice came back immediately. “Signals informs me that Pritchard’s responses are coming from an indefinite number of repeaters, completely englobing us. Even if we wanted to, we don’t have enough nukes to take them all out. And they could all be repeaters. He could be even farther out, relaying his responses.”
“Very well planned, it seems,” Jennings said.
“Ivan?” Dr. Kemp said.
“Here, Doc.”
“We have an interesting situation. We’ve tagged your comms station—the real one—and your nanite balls. We can blow them up. But we can’t blow you up. You can build more nanites, and try again. But we’ll be more prepared to deny you resources. And we’re learning how to fight the nanites. We also have the poisoning the well option. Remember you mentioned that systems belonging to species that nuked themselves to extinction are unusable? We have enough hardware to implement that, and you know we’d be willing. Sounds like the beginning of a long, drawn-out cold war, with both sides offering nothing but defector moves. Do you agree with my assessment?”
“Sure do, Doc. And the computer is annoyed with me. It’s pretty sure I orchestrated this, but it can’t figure out how.”
“I’d imagine the subtleties of implied communication are something you lose when you get Uploaded,” Narang commented.
“Not sure I’d agree, Doc. Uh, Dr. Narang. I’m Uploaded, and I still get it.”
“So, it’s not the process itself,” Dr. Kemp mused out loud. “Time? Or maybe loss of ‘humanity’, or the equivalent for other species?”
“I can’t say, Doc. Neither can the computer. But it admits—not sure if that’s the right work, maybe acknowledges—that this is one of the reasons that the Uploads keep looking for more species. Fresh blood, so to speak.
“And yet it was planning on wiping us out.”
“Not explicitly, just allowing us to be killed in the conversion. Nothing personal. There’s a cost/benefit analysis, and a risk analysis. Humanity came up short, although barely. We are, apparently, a bit of a pain in the ass, cosmically speaking.”
Now came the gambit. Kemp had to hope he played this right. He took a deep breath. “Given all that, the computer’s course of action doesn’t strike me as logical.”
There was a momentary silence, then Ivan laughed out loud. “I wouldn’t have believed it was possible, but you just offended the computer, Doc.”
Kemp grinned at Jennings and Narang, then answered, “Well, good. At least that means it’s listening.” He settled back in his chair and stroked his chin for a moment. “Here’s the thing. We’re not facing an imminent Arts invasion, are we? I mean, nothing specific has been detected?”
“Why do you say that, Doctor?” Mandelbaum cut in.
“Because the computer’s actions are orderly, and are not rushed. A space station, for instance, would be a secondary priority if the Arts were coming down our throats. Instead, the computer is executing multiple parallel activities. What you do when you have the luxury of time.”
“As it happens, Doc, you’re correct. How is that relevant?” Ivan’s voice had taken on a flat inflection. Dr. Kemp frowned for a moment, wondering if he’d just heard the computer talking.
“Because, Ivan, it changes the risk analysis. You’ve said that species are valuable as Uploads. If you aren’t being imminently forced into a course of action, then it is logical to cultivate the possibility—”
“Hold on, Doctor,” Mandelbaum interjected. “You’re advocating for Upload?”
“In the future, Commodore. And possibly willingly, by our own hand. That is how a percentage of species come up, right, Ivan?”
“That is correct. Most Uploaded species, in fact, are self-actualized.”
Dr. Kemp looked at Narang, whose brow was furrowed. Ivan’s voice was definitely changing in tone, timber, inflection, pacing—the cadence of the words had become more even, like a metronome was in charge. Someone or something else had either taken over or was heavily involved. From one point of view, that was good. From another, they needed Ivan’s influence in this discussion. If he’d been subsumed, they might have no chance at all.
“So why not wait until your hand is forced? Let us continue to develop and grow. You always have the option of going back to plan A.”
Because, on balance, the human race does not display sufficient maturity. Your value to the Uploads is questionable at this time.
The voice now had no trace left of Ivan. Kemp stopped to take a deep breath. This was the part where he bet the wad. “Assuming your analysis is correct and complete—are you familiar with the Prisoner’s Dilemma?”
There was a short silence, then Ivan came back on. It was Ivan, Ivan’s voice. “Different name, of course, but the computer is familiar with the Game Theory concept. Cooperation vs. Defection, in a Nash-Equilibrium situation.”
Kemp smiled. “Good. I submit that the ability to choose cooperation is based on the willingness to choose longer term benefits at the expense of shorter-term advantages. In our first encounter, we chose defection, and attacked. This time around, we propose to cooperate.”
There was a “What?” from Mandelbaum.
Proceed.
Kemp took a deep breath. “We can continue the cold war, each trying to seek short-term advantage, and ultimately both of us suffering; or we can seek cooperation, resulting in a short-term minor disadvantage but a longer-term payoff for both. I propose that we will choose not to blow up your nanites and comms station, and in return you will spare the human race. It’s probably too late for the other planets, I’d guess.”
What’s to stop you from defecting at a later date?
“Nothing. Nor is there anything stopping you from waking up one morning and deciding to drop a new set of nanites on Earth. That’s the whole point of the Prisoner’s Dilemma. Zero control over the opponents’ motivations, thoughts, or plans. You have to depend on the cooperation being sufficiently beneficial to both sides to reduce the temptation to defect. Done properly, it’s a positive-sum game. We benefit more in the aggregate than we each would individually.”
It seems to me that I will be making most of the concessions.
“And getting most of the benefits from a successful relationship, in the long-term. We get nothing in return but our lives, which we had before you showed up.”
True. But why should I choose this path, when the payoff is certain with my current plan?
“Because if there’s one thing that the Prisoner’s Dilemma teaches, it’s that over the long term, both parties benefit more by cooperation than by defection. Your purpose, as I understand it, is to provide maximum tactical value for your Makers. If you choose the Defector route, you are betraying your programming by seeking a shorter-term but sub-optimal payoff. And we’ve just offered a Cooperator move. Tit-for-tat strategy mandates that you reciprocate in order to realize that maximal value.”
There was a pause.
The human phrase for your line of argument is heavy-handed. But not necessarily incorrect. Stand by.
Stand by? Kemp looked at Narang and Jennings. “It would appear you’ve given it something to think about, anyway,” Jennings said.
The radio came back to life.
Your terms are acceptable.
Kemp let out an explosive breath that he didn’t realize he’d been holding. Narang whooped.
Jennings pressed the button on his console to speak, but Mandelbaum beat him to it. “How do we proceed?”
Ivan’s voice came on, full-on Ivan. “The computer will signal the Makers. That’s still the long-term goal. That isn’t necessarily a danger to the human race, anyway. Closer to home, it will reprogram the nanite balls for something less, erm, dramatic. But part of the deal is that the nanites have to be in place. That’s the computer’s guarantee that you won’t defect on its ass without warning. In return, the computer will provide assistance to help you prevent or at least delay the ecological collapse that Earth is facing until you can reduce the threat of the Singularity, and get Upload technology developed and society ready to accept it.”
“Wow.” Mandelbaum’s voice sounded tired. “I hope the UEN ratifies this, or I’m going to be in the shit even deeper than Admiral Moore.”
Moore laughed. “I don’t think they’ll have any choice, Commodore. The alternative is unacceptable.”
Someone, probably bridge crew, cut into the conversation. “Ma’am, we have a hail from the SSE battle group.”
Jennings looked at the doctors. “Just one pile of fertilizer after another.”
Reaction
You engineered that.
Sorry, Ralph. Guilty as charged.
I have reviewed all your conversations, all your actions. I am unable to pinpoint any specific event that would have led to this result. Makers’ research has concluded that telepathy is not possible. Were they wrong?
You have enough information to understand our games of Chess and Go?
Of course. A simple set of rules, but a complex and unpredictable set of outcomes.
Not unpredictable. Predicting your opponent’s strategy is the whole point of the game.
Interesting.
But now the SSE is doing their usual chest-beating. We have to help—
No.
Why not? They could screw everything.
Our agreement with humanity deals with the Singularity and environmental destruction, at least in theory. This is the third major filter—self-destruction. If the humans can’t overcome this encounter, it is almost certain to progress into full-blown war. Then we are back to…square one. An odd term. Game-related?
I think so. So after all that, we just sit back and watch?
It is the final test. If they pass this, you are…golden? Another game term?
Don’t think so, not this time.
Face-Off
Mandelbaum gave Moore a dark look, then pressed the intercom. “Put the SSE vessel through to the Ready Room, Signals.” She waited for the indicator to show a connection, and spoke as soon as the light came on. “This is Commodore Mandelbaum, commanding the UENN forces.”
“This is Admiral Yeltsin of the SSE war fleet, aboard the SSEN destroyer Victorious. Commodore, am I to understand that you intend to do a deal with these entities?”
Moore raised his eyebrows. The tone was belligerent. There was a standard joke that the SSE military operated in two modes—confrontational, and asleep. But the communication was phrased as a question. For an SSE officer to open with that was unusual.
Mandelbaum responded. “Admiral Yeltsin, obviously you’ve been listening to the conversation, and no surprise since the whole thing was in clear. Hopefully you’ve heard the whole conversation—”
“I have. There are two items to note—one, you are unable to destroy the threat, and two, you’ve decided to try to negotiate your safety. Typical. It falls to myself and the SSE to do the job then. Step aside, and we will take care of it for you.”
Moore typed on his tablet, then showed it to Mandelbaum.
Have the Getting Ahead move out of the arena with all haste.
She nodded, and typed on her own tablet. At the same time, she addressed the SSE warship. “Perhaps your English isn’t as good as you believe it to be, Admiral. We are capable of destroying the space stations, we just don’t believe it will remove the threat. Nor do we believe that an ongoing guerilla campaign is in anyone’s best interests.”
Moore typed on his tablet again.
Prepare one of the nuclear-tipped cruise missiles for an interception mission.
Mandelbaum drew back her head with a frown of disbelief. Moore tapped his temple and smiled. Mandelbaum typed on her tablet again, and showed it to Moore.
Per my authorization, accept any orders from Admiral Moore relating to current tactical situation.
She pressed send, then nodded to him.
Grinning, Moore began typing orders at a furious pace.
The SSE admiral responded, “You are simply too timid, Commodore. A good spread of nukes through the local sphere will surely take out this alien that you have code-named Ivan.”
“And you know that, how? Never mind. You hope that will work. The problem is that if it doesn’t, you’ve committed the entire human race to a war that, ultimately, we will lose. While at the same time denying us the opportunity to leap-frog our technology through cooperation with Ivan.” Mandelbaum released the transmit button with a flourish.
“Bah! More words. More mealy-mouthed weaseling. Let us show you how it is done.”
Immediately, the status monitor on the desktop showed an object leaving the SSE war fleet. A second later, AI software projected the trajectory, terminating in Ivan’s comms station. At the same time, the intercom announced, “Single launch from SSE flagship. Profile matches S-Mark-IV SSE nuclear missile. Initiating defensive script Moore-1.”
There was a barely perceptible shudder as the Gambit responded. The klaxon bleated, followed by an automated announcement. “Red alert, red alert, all personnel to battle stations. This is not a drill. Implement radiation protocols.”
After a brief pause, the P.A. announced, “Estimated intercept twelve seconds. All crew, brace for blast and radiation effects.”
Mandelbaum glared at Moore. “You sent a nuclear-tipped missile to intercept?”
Moore smiled back. “Close only counts in horseshoes and nuclear missiles, Commodore. The response both ensures that we’ll take out their sortie, and sends a clear message that we’re happy to deploy nukes. It immediately deflates their internal narrative that we will be the first to blink.” His smile changed to a predatory grin. “It’s a strategy of mine that I like to call, ‘As a matter of fact, you give me your wallet.’”
Mandelbaum shook her head in disbelief. “Don’t make me regret that order, Moore.”
“I don’t think Yeltsin is as confident as he makes out, Commodore. In this particular case, we can make him blink.” Moore hoped his confident tone wasn’t misplaced. The alternative was that he had just started an interplanetary war. If this tanked, he might as well just space himself and save everyone else the trouble.
The desktop flashed the message, “Detonation”, followed by, “Outside shock radius” and “Radiation effects nominal.”
Admiral Yeltsin spoke over the intercom, his voice tight with rage. “That was a declaration of war, Commodore.”
&nb
sp; Mandelbaum stared at Moore for a long second, then responded. “If you want to take it that way, Admiral, feel free. But you’re capable of doing the same analysis that we are. We outgun you. Not significantly, but enough to put the odds in our favor. Meanwhile, we have an agreement with Ivan, and you don’t, which means he’ll be motivated to help us. If we go to war, you can bet your last bottle of vodka that we’ll be using any tech we get from him to pound the SSE into the dust.”
She let the silence hang for a moment before continuing. “On the other hand, in the absence of a war, the SSE has the same right to the tech as anyone else. Your call, Admiral.”
She took her finger off the transmit button again and raised an eyebrow at Moore. He gave her two thumbs up.
The two stared at the intercom panel. The time stretched. Finally, there was a response, but not from the SSE admiral.
“Ma’am, comm monitoring reports leakage from a tight-beam signal, originating at the SSE flagship. Not enough signal strength to make anything out, and it’s probably encrypted anyway. Aimed at Earth, looks like.”
Moore grinned. “They’re phoning home.”
Mandelbaum did a fist pump in response. “They blinked!”
Aftermath
Moore looked at the backlog of communications in the in-basket on his tablet. It was small consolation to know that Mandelbaum’s was far, far worse. Recriminations, demands for more information, requests for independent confirmation, suggestions for further negotiation, outright threats, and many of them mutually contradictory. It didn’t help that the chain of command, never fully clarified in the first place, was being totally ignored.
And Strategic Space Command had no real grounds for complaint. They’d given Mandelbaum the authorization to do what she did. She’d given Moore the authorization to place the orders that he had. The SSE admiral had passed the buck to his HQ, and they’d blinked as well.
No one was in a position to take it back without losing face. Especially since, when it came down to it, mankind had won. The human race wouldn’t be destroyed or Uploaded by fiat; the SSE wouldn’t be going to war; and if preliminary discussions with Ivan were anything to go by, Earth would be considerably better off.
The Singularity Trap Page 31